


Flower, Ice(ing), and Everything Nice

by AnnaTheHank



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Baking, Fluff, M/M, Post-Canon, baking shop, not an AU tho, t for language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-20 02:27:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22074784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaTheHank/pseuds/AnnaTheHank
Summary: Aziraphale decides to open a shop he can actually sell things in and what better than a bakery? Only problem is; he can't bake.Enter Crowley to rescue.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 44





	Flower, Ice(ing), and Everything Nice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MulaSaWala](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MulaSaWala/gifts).



> HAPPY HOLIDAYS FROM THE SERVER GIFT EXCHANGE!!!  
> Hope you enjoy <3

Aziraphale wiped his hands clean and placed them on his hips with a little sigh. “Well, there we are,” he said. 

Crowley wandered up to him and placed his chin on Aziraphale’s shoulder, looking down at the display of sweets stored in the little counter. He had designed the cases to keep the baked goods fresh all night long, and little lights reflected off the smooth icing and decorations.

“They certainly look appealing,” Crowley said. He wrapped his arms around Aziraphale’s waist and nudged their heads together. “I get mine for free right?”

Crowley reached out to grab for one but Aziraphale lightly slapped his hand away. “Not from the cases. I’ve kept you some in the kitchen.”

A few weeks ago Aziraphale had decided that he’d like to try his hand at a real business, one that was actually meant to make money and not just hold his books. Crowley thought it was a little unnecessary, but they both had a lot more free time now, and he wasn’t going to go and stop Aziraphale from doing something with it all.

The shop next to the bookstore had conveniently moved to a better location, leaving the space open and perfect for a new bakery. And the space above the store made for an excellent expansion to their living quarters, now that all of Crowley’s things were there as well. 

The kitchen was large and updated with the newest appliances. And despite having spent all afternoon baking (and no time cleaning) it was pristine and in tact. A tasty looking eclair sat on a little plate on the counter and Crowley snatched it up. 

He popped it in his mouth and immediately clenched his teeth to stop his body from shaking. It was sour somehow. But also a little musty. It kind of tasted like an old book. Crowley really wanted to just spit it back out, but Aziraphale was staring at him with a hopeful rise in his eyebrows and a soft smile. So he tried not to wince as he finished chewing and swallowed.

“Well?” Aziraphale asked. He bounced on his toes a bit.

“Scrumptious,” Crowley lied, wide, toothy grin adding to the facade. 

Aziraphale let out a relieved sigh. “Oh, good. I was worried. After all, I haven’t baked since...well...since ever actually.”

“You’re a natural, angel,” Crowley told him. He was now thankful that Aziraphale had only kept one treat out for him to try. He wasn’t sure he could fake his way through another one.

“Thank you, dear.” Aziraphale looked around the kitchen and nodded. He stepped closer to Crowley and grabbed his waist. “Why don’t we go celebrate a day well spent, hm?” 

The only thing that mattered to Crowley was Aziraphale’s happiness. And as happy as going back upstairs with him that night would have made Crowley, the face Aziraphale would have tomorrow when not-so-well-intentioned customers criticized his food would just be the worst face in existence. So Crowley stepped out of his grasp.

“Actually, I think I’m gonna stay over here and make sure the front looks good.” He had offered to paint murals on the walls to look more appealing. He was basically done, but it was a good excuse.

“Surely you can finish them in the morning,” Aziraphale said with a slight pout. 

Crowley hated to disappoint but he had a job to do. “I just want it to look perfect for your big day, angel.” He took Aziraphale’s hand and leaned over to kiss his cheek. 

“Very well. I’ll be up reading when you’re done,” he said. He kissed Crowley back and then slunk away, casting a few glances over his shoulder as if he could entice Crowley to change his mind.

It very nearly worked.

As soon as Aziraphale was gone Crowley spun around. He snapped both fingers and with a poof of red smoke a line of seven little demonic creatures were standing before him, short and red and already yelling at each other.

“Alright,” Crowley announced, clapping his hands to get their attention. “Listen up.”

“Who put you in charge?” one of the demons asked.

“I did,” Crowley told them. He hissed a bit. Even though the demons didn’t seem entirely impressed, they did quiet down. “Good. Now, we only have a few hours to remake all of those goodies out there, so I’m gonna need everyone to pull together and work hard!”

Two of the demons decided to make fun of that, pushing themselves together until they merged into one. The others snickered and Crowley rolled his eyes. 

“You two are on mixers,” he said, pointing to the two demons on the left of the line. “You _two_ ,” he pointed to the merged demon, “are running ingredients.” They popped back apart and raced to the fridge. “You two are keeping track of oven times,” he told the two on the right.

They saluted and said, “Sir, yes, sir,” before running off.

Crowley looked down at the last demon, the one that had spoken up before. “And you,” he said with a smirk. He reached over and grabbed the cookbook, opening it to the first item on the list-cupcakes. “Can hold the book.” He placed the book on the demon’s head, settling it right between their horns. It was at the perfect level to glance down at as needed. 

“We’re demons,” the little creature said, following him around as he called out ingredients. “We should be causing chaos, not making...sugary delights.”

“Aziraphale can not serve whatever the heaven he made,” Crowley told them. “He’ll end up killing someone.”

“That’s a good thing!”

Crowley smacked them on the back of the head and bent over, glaring at them. “Aziraphale is more important than any demonic work you could or should be doing so if you don’t shut up and get to work I’m gonna snap your tail off and shove it down your throat.”

“You don’t have the nerve,” the creature argued.

Crowley straightened up and snapped his fingers. The demon yelped, holding a hand to its butt as something shocked at it. They scrambled away, taking the cookbook over to the mixers.

Crowley stood and watched for a moment, nodding to make sure things were going alright. While the cupcakes were baking and the eclairs mixing, he finished his paintings. Then he got to work on the decorations on the goods. They weren’t nearly as perfect as Aziraphale got them, but he hoped it was close enough that he wouldn't notice. 

He finished with not a moment to spare. He had the last tray of goods to take out when he heard the bell ring over the door, announcing Aziraphale’s arrival. He held the tray behind his back and pointed to the demons. “You get this cleaned up and then you get out.”

He didn’t give them time to respond. He pushed the door open and walked into the store, hiding the tray expertly from Aziraphale, who was glancing at the colorful walls with a smile.

“They look lovely, darling,” Aziraphale said. His gaze landed on Crowley and noticed the hand behind his back. “Oh? What’s that you’ve got?”

“Uh,” Crowley looked around trying to think of a good excuse. 

Aziraphale huffed, noticing the empty space in the counter. “Honestly, dear. I will just make you more.” He stepped up to Crowley and reached around, taking the tray from him. He studied them for a second, then shook his head and put them back in their place.

“Sorry,” Crowley said with a shrug. “Couldn’t help myself. They’re just so good.”

Aziraphale smiled, bright as the sun, and kissed Crowley’s cheek. “I’m glad you like them, dear. Let’s just hope everyone else does as well.”

“Oh, they will,” Crowley assured him.

Aziraphale patted Crowley’s arm and headed for the kitchen. Crowley spun around quickly to grab for his arm, but Aziraphale slipped away. Crowley chased after him but it was too late. He had opened the door.

The demons stopped what they were doing, all heads turning to where Aziraphale and Crowley were standing. They looked at Aziraphale. They looked at Crowley. Then they disappeared in a poof of red smoke, leaving half the mess behind.

Aziraphale stepped fully into the kitchen, looking around at the flour on the floor and the icing stuck to the counters. He made a full circle before looking at Crowley, who stood by the door, tense and waiting.

“What was all that?” Aziraphale asked. 

Crowley opened his mouth but couldn’t think of anything to say. 

Aziraphale looked miserable. “Really, Crowley,” he said. “I know you still like to make trouble but I thought you would be above this.”

“This what?” Crowley asked.

“You’ve poisoned them,” Aziraphale said, certain in his conviction. “I mean, really. What did you hope to gain from this?”

Crowley opened and closed his mouth a few times but Aziraphale being upset at him for a fake crime was better than him being let down at his own skills. So Crowley just shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged. “I guess I just thought it’d be kind of funny.”

Aziraphale shook his head and busied about the kitchen, slipping his apron on over his head. “I am very cross with you right now,” he said. “But I don’t have a lot of time to undo what you did so grab an apron and get to work. Please.”

Crowley slunk over to the rack by the door, grabbing for an apron. “Aziraphale, wait,” he said. He really couldn’t stand Aziraphale being so mad at him. 

Aziraphale did not stop but he did ask, “Why?”

“I didn’t poison them,” Crowley admitted. 

“Yes, yes,” Aziraphale said with a tone of annoyance in his voice. “The little demon creatures did. Just help me fix it.”

Crowley grabbed Aziraphale’s wrists, stopping his angry pulling out of ingredients. “No one poisoned anything.”

“Then what, exactly, was going on, hm?”

Crowley couldn’t stand to look Aziraphale in the eye, choosing to stare at his feet instead. “I wasn’t poisoning the food I was just...making them better.”

“Better?”

Crowley kept his head hung but looked up at Aziraphale. “Yours weren’t exactly...they were kind of...well, they were bad.”

“Bad?”

“Nearly-inedible, really.”

Aziraphale’s face fell. “They were?”

Crowley straightened back up. He couldn’t bear to look at the frown on Aziraphale’s face so he looked to the side. “Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Aziraphale asked. “You told me they were good. You said they were scrumptious!”

Crowley scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah, I know. I’m sorry, Aziraphale. I just didn’t want...well I didn’t want you to do that.” He gestured to Aziraphale’s face, still unable to look at it without dying.

Aziraphale sighed. “I appreciate the sentiment, dear. But you really should have told me.”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry.”

“Well.” Aziraphale ran a hand through Crowley’s hair and when Crowley finally looked at him, he was smiling. “Now we know, hm?”

“It’s alright,” Crowley told him. “I’m sure you can find another type of business to try out.”

“Oh no, dear.” Aziraphale had a wicked little grin as he took off his apron. “Now we know that _you_ can bake.” He slipped it over Crowley’s head. “Or rather, you and your little friends.”

“Huh?”

“Don’t you think it’d be fun?” Aziraphale asked. He stepped closer so he could reach around Crowley, face inches away as he tied the straps in the back. “The two of us working together?”

“Together?”

“You bake, I’ll decorate and sell. It works perfectly.”

Crowley swallowed the lump in his throat and felt his face heat up. Aziraphale’s fingers finished with the apron and then settled on Crowley’s waist. Crowley smiled and pressed their foreheads together. “Nothing sounds more perfect,” he agreed.

Aziraphale smiled and kissed him. Then he reached up and ran a thumb over Crowley’s cheek, cleaning off a smear of flower he had forgotten to dust off earlier. 

“I love you, my dear.”

“I love you too, angel.”


End file.
